The day before Vader was to leave for his mission to the Wookiee homeworld, Vader went into his son's quarters with a plate that contained a variety of vegetables and a cut-up bantha steak. The boy sometimes ate his food fairly quickly, so Vader tried to ensure only small pieces of food were provided.
The boy looked at the food with interest, and as he speared a piece of steak with a fork, he looked up. Though he rarely talked directly to Vader, he asked, "Are you . . . are you doing this because . . . because I've been good?"
A fierce flare of protectiveness toward this child rose up within Vader, and he answered, "No. I am doing this because I care for you. That wretched life you lived with Xizor . . . that will never happen again. You need not be afraid."
The boy frowned and looked down at his food. In a small voice, he asked, "Did you mean it?"
"Mean what?" Vader asked softly.
"The 'fresher. I can . . . use it?"
"Yes," Vader said, longing to sigh in relief. He had scarcely hoped for something like this to happen so soon. "You can. I can also show you how to use the shower. Would you . . . would you like me to show you how it works?" He was unaccustomed to feeling so unsure of himself, and he scarcely knew how to act. He was feeling less and less like a Sith Lord every day—and more and more like someone positioned halfway between Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader. If Luke had been born sooner, before the fight with Obi-Wan, was this what Anakin Skywalker would have become?
The boy dipped his head and mumbled, "Yes."
"Follow me," Vader said gently, his voice a low rumble.
They both went into the small refresher unit, where Vader slowly explained how everything worked, trying to ensure that the boy could understand what he meant. Those wide eyes—blue ones, the boy's medical chart had said, though Vader saw everything through filtered lenses—took in everything, and a gentle touch of the Force from Vader revealed his son's mind was unusually calm. The boy could have easily been overwhelmed by the new information—or rather, the reminder of information he had once known—but instead, he was showing a remarkable fortitude. He was a Skywalker indeed. A surge of pride welled up within Vader.
After the explanations were finished, Vader said, "You can wear clothes after you shower, if you would like. They are yours, to do with as you please. I had them made for you."
The boy blinked at him, but said nothing.
Vader wanted to stay to help, but he knew it was best to let the boy do this on his own, so he left him alone. Yet he could scarcely wait to return.
Vader returned a little while later. He paused in the doorframe to look at the boy, startled by the sight before him.
Though the rest of his body was still bare, the boy's gaunt torso was now covered in a gray tunic. The material was ill-fitting on his thin frame, yet it was remarkable how much it served to humanize him. He no longer seemed quite so feral and animalistic. He was a human boy who had been hurt and lost . . . but who was now finding his way back to where he needed to be.
"Luke," Vader breathed, allowing himself to directly call his son by his name for the first time. "You have done well. If you . . . if you ever need help putting on clothes, just let me know. I can assist you, or I can have a droid assist you. You look . . ." Inside, the ghost of Anakin Skywalker supplied, Perfect. But the Sith Lord tempered himself and said only, "You look well."
His son was obviously uncomfortable at having moved so far out of his comfort zone, and he cowered a little in the corner, his shoulders hunched, his eyes wary and frightened.
"Please, do not be afraid," Vader said softly. "I will never harm you. I wanted to let you know that we will be going to my ship tomorrow. You will put in slightly different quarters, but I shall still be around, and your life will not change in any significant fashion. Artoo will also come with us. If you would like, I can show you the stars . . . and not just in a hologram."
The boy stared at him for a couple of heartbeats. And then he nodded.
"Good," Vader said. He had wanted to show him the stars.
The next morning, Luke was awake when Vader went to him. He looked at Vader mildly, as if he had been expecting his arrival.
Vader held out a plate of food, which Luke came and took from him, and then he watched for a few minutes as the boy slowly ate it. More and more, the boy was refraining from eating his food in a rush, instead taking the time to savor it.
When Luke was done, Vader began to talk to him. "We need to go to my starship, Luke. You can either be . . . put to sleep, or you can walk on your own power. You will have to wear pants and shoes, though. I do not want to sedate you—to put you to sleep—but it is important that your transition to the ship goes smoothly. If you do go while you are awake, you can see the stars."
Luke looked at him, and for a moment Vader thought he did not understand, but then the boy said, "I do not want to . . . go to sleep."
"Do you need help putting your clothes on?"
"No," the boy said quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, and then asked, "Will . . . will you hit me?"
The question hurt Vader in indescribable ways. "I will never hit you," he whispered. "You never need to be afraid of me." That should not have been true, but it was. The last thing Vader could ever do was hurt his son.
Luke nodded, and Vader was surprised to see a brief glimpse of naked trust in the boy's bright eyes.
"All right," the boy said. "Help me. I will . . . I will be good."
Vader wanted to tell him he did not have to be good if he did not want to, but instead, he simply inclined his head in acknowledgment and stepped forward to help dress his son.